


good for you

by honeybaked_hamilton



Series: fools who run their mouths [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, Eventual Smut, Humor, M/M, Multi, Rap Battles, Slow Burn, burr is a tease and he knows it basically, funny but hot but cute all in one ????, good for you, ill add more tags later, karaoke bar, leslie singing good for you w r e c k e d me i will never be the same, way too many picture video links but you'll thank me later :))))))
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8314834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybaked_hamilton/pseuds/honeybaked_hamilton
Summary: same universe as fools who run their mouths, you don't have to read the first story but I kinda recommend it otherwise the intro to this won't make as much sense? it's aaron and alexander's anniversary. the gang drag ham & burr to a karaoke bar downtown, burr sings good for you, alex loses his shit & becomes a human puddle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i added some links for songs and what I imagined hamilton/burr was wearing. hope you like it! yell @ me on tumblr: honeyhamiltons

These past few months with Aaron, _his boyfriend_ (god just saying the word had Alexander in a goofy grin) were the best of his life. 

Of course their friends still debated who’s plan worked in getting them together. It always started with John claiming all the credit boasting how he gave them the push they needed and ending, surprisingly, with Jefferson grinning like a cheshire cat—bragging that he called it the first time Burr complained about Hamilton to him. Ever petty, Hamilton would throw the nearest object toward Jefferson’s head whenever he said this as Burr would hide his smile in Alexander’s shoulder. 

The word that Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton had finally become a couple spread across campus like wildfire. The college newspaper editor, Paul Revere, made it that week’s headline. Hamilton and Burr giggled non-stop when they framed the paper in their dorm. People were paying up on their bets; Hamilton swears he saw a grumbling Adams slip a very satisfied Ben Franklin a wad of cash. Even Burr was held back after Washington’s class for the obligatory shovel talk, you know the “You hurt Alexander, I hurt you” kind of talk. Suffice it to say, Washington said very little and mostly stared Burr down with his imposing eyebrows. That was enough to scare the shit out of Burr. 

But, their six month anniversary (well a year and six months, technically, as Hamilton would start to argue before a chorus of “yes, we know!” shut him up) was coming up. Since their friends were heavily invested in their relationship, the group decided that a week before they’d all go off campus and celebrate. Hamilton was about to suggest they just go out to dinner as a group when he noticed Burr sharing a glance he couldn’t decipher with Jefferson. 

“Actually, I know the perfect place. In the Village, it’s called Dulce,” Jefferson interrupted Hamilton. 

“Oh I love that place! Isn’t it a ka-,” Peggy started excitedly before Angelica clapped a hand over her mouth.

The group seemed to realize something and shared a knowing grin as Burr nodded slightly. 

“Okay, someone tell me what is going on before I start yelling,” Hamilton said pouting.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait for it,” Burr whispered in his ear, causing a blush to flush over Hamilton and their friends fondly fake gagging at them. 

. . . 

“Hey babe, how fancy is this place we’re going to? Is it like a tavern situation or a snooty cocktail lounge?” Hamilton yelled over his shoulder as he fiddled with his tie, “Actually, knowing Jefferson he’s probably never been in a dive bar his entire life, that pretentious french loving fu-“ Hamilton stopped abruptly as Burr sauntered towards him in a low white v-neck, fitted wool blazer, and heavenly tailored pants. Hamilton’s eyes were glued to the way the sleeves of Burr’s blazer bunched and accentuated his biceps. He felt his throat tighten as Burr straightened out his tie for him. As he spun Hamilton around, he murmured, “There, that’s better” locking eyes with Hamilton in the full-length mirror. Hamilton followed Burr’s eyes graze his body in the mirror and saw his own eyes flutter as Burr ran his hands through Hamilton’s hair, gathering it into a low bun. 

“Ha, I feel a bit underdressed next to you if i’m being honest,” Hamilton said gesturing to [his rolled up white button-up that was tucked into snug jeans and a black leather belt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1mYfsNFtGI). “You know I love you in those jeans” Burr said, sliding his hands down into Hamilton’s front pockets and peppering kisses up his neck. As he nipped at Hamilton’s jawline, Burr glimpsed at his reaction in the mirror. Just as Hamilton leaned back sighing into Burr’s chest, Burr withdrew his hands, “We’ll be late if we keep this up.”

Hamilton let out a small whine, “You started it, Burr.”

Burr smirked as he stuffed their dorm key, his phone, and wallet inside his jacket. As he opened the door he said behind his shoulder, “The faster we get there, the faster we can come back home.”

Hamilton ran out the door.

. . .

Dulce was full of contradictions. The sleek gold lettering of the sign made Hamilton’s palms sweat at the probability of $14 drinks. But the inside had exposed brick and small, intimate, round tables scattered around. There was a long marble bar and it served everything from Rosé to Corona. All of the bartenders had pastel colored hair and wore gold lamé tank tops. Christmas lights and papel picado adorned the ceiling. When they walked in, a group of people were singing _La Vie Bohème_ with a live band under color changing lights. Instead of singing along to lyrics on a screen, people flipped through a catalog of songs the band knew and signed their name up to sing onstage. 

“Is this. . .a karaoke bar?” Hamilton asked, staring in wonder at how the papel picado glittered among the multi-colored string lights. 

“Um, yeah? Is it okay? I mean we can go somewhere else if you want I was just thinking this would be better than you bugging Madison about the videos of me singing. . .” Burr said sheepishly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. 

“It’s cute, plus I’m itching to see you sing something cheesy,” Hamilton reassured him, squeezing his hand and grinning from ear to ear. 

“Alright, alright, that’s what I’m talking about! The lovebirds _finally_ made it now we can officially start the party!” hollered John with his arms swung over Laf and Herc’s shoulders. 

Hamilton responded by singing along to the group onstage and taking John’s beer, “To hand-crafted beers made in local breweries, to yoga, to yogurt, to rice and beans and cheese”. Burr smiled at his boyfriend’s antics and yanked him back around the waist as the rest of the group joined in, “To leather, to dildos, to curry vindaloo”. Burr started tickling Hamilton when he over-exaggerated rolling his r’s singing, “Huevos Rancheros” as the Schuyler Sisters sang, “and Maya Angelou”. 

Before they knew it, the gang was dragged into a conga line around the bar as the group onstage sang, “Bisexuals, Trisexuals, Homo-sapiens, Carcinogens, Hallucinogens. . .”

The energy was sizzling, the crowd was lively, and even the air seemed electric in the bar. As Peggy and Alex gossiped, Burr got everyone refills on their drinks. The more bourbon Jefferson and Mads drank, the heavier their southern accents came out, spilling out of their mouths like molasses. The Schuyler Sisters are the queens of fruity cocktails. Eliza sips appletinis, Angelica’s signature drink is cosmopolitans, and Peggy chugs fuzzy navels, all of them winding up giddy and giggly all night. Give Herc a beer and he’s your best friend, clapping you on the back _hard_ as he recites jokes he’s memorized from Laffy Taffy wrappers. Lafayette is affectionally known as the wine mom of the group, he fusses over everyone and hands out snacks he just happens to have in his bag. John is a complete lightweight, he takes a shot of tequila early on and steals sips from the Schuyler Sisters’ fruity drinks the rest of the night, gossiping _loudly_ about everyone. Hamilton goes behind the bar himself, mixing up his own concoctions. He’ll make himself a jalapeño margarita with cayenne pepper and salt on the rim or a coconut rum mixed with orange-pineapple juice. Just as a tall Dominican man with pastel blue hair hands Burr a drink with a wink, Hamilton unceremoniously shoves him aside and makes Burr his favorite, a dirty Martini. Laughing and shaking his head in exasperation, Burr tugs Hamilton down by his tie, thanking him for the drink with a kiss. 

Suddenly, the stage does dark. The sound of disco floods the dance floor as a vivid pink light illuminates the very tipsy crew that is Herc, John, and Lafayette. It’s [Uptown Funk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPf0YbXqDm0). Peggy scrambles to get her phone out to record the entire thing as a tipsy Angelica, Jefferson, and Madison attempt to do the hustle along to the beat. Everyone claps along as they take turns singing. Lafayette fans himself and falls into Herc’s arms when he sings, “I’m too hot, hot damn”. Herc’s voice is like an earthquake, rumbling deep within as he sings the chorus. John runs down to Hamilton in the crowd, empty glass in his hand as he sings, “Fill my cup, put some liquor in it” to him with a wide goofy grin. The saxophones and trumpets are blazing as the trio bows with the crowd hollering for more. 

Out of breath, Herc smirks at the Schuyler Sisters on their way back to their table, “Think you can top that?”

“Pretty sure we’ll sing circles around you,” Eliza sasses back as she high-fives her sisters. 

Peggy skips up to the stage and whispers their song choice to the drummer. The lighting shifts to a soft blue and the Schuyler Sisters strike a Destiny’s Child-esque pose. Mic in her hand, Angelica tells the crowd, [“We thought we would sing a little song about how it feels to be in love sometimes, can I get an Amen?”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYkUMHYtlNM) as the crowd cheers encouragingly. “Alright, Za-Za lead us off girl,” Angelica says nodding to her sister. Eliza lets out an enchanting high note, rivaling Alicia Keys herself as she sings, “I keep on falling in and out of love”. Snapping their fingers, the sisters’ harmony seems to hypnotize the crowd. Everyone in the crowd swoons at Peggy’s solo. Her voice is like smooth jazz, demure and on fire. Their voices compliment each other, fitting each other like puzzle pieces. Angelica’s voice is like a gospel, people in the crowd raising their hands in blessing as she sings. As their song comes to a close, the crowd erupts. Herc and the rest of the crew lower their hands, bowing down to the sisters’ angelic performance. 

“Mh-Hmm, y’all were good I’ll give you that, but y’all aren’t ready for what I’m about to throw down,” Jefferson boasts. Angelica’s eyebrows rise and Hamilton rolls his eyes and boos as Jefferson makes his way to the stage. 

Jefferson slides on some sunglasses as he announces that he’s going to sing Rihanna. The lights flash a bold purple as the beginning notes of [Bitch Better Have My Money](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQW2FFt3-A8)fills the bar. Before he starts singing, Jefferson blows a kiss in Madison’s direction. Flashing a smile he sings, “Please don’t call me on my bluff, pay me what you owe me”. Channeling his inner Rihanna, Jefferson shrugs his shoulders and rolls his hips to the rhythm. He waves his hands in the air in sync to the beat, emphasizing his diva attitude as he chants, “I call the shots, shots, shots”. Madison was simultaneously beaming with pride and sinking in his seat with second-hand embarrassment, while he filmed his boyfriend on his phone. Jefferson’s satin indigo bomber jacket seemed to glimmer in the spotlight. He rose his hand to his eyes gesturing as if he was searching the crowd while asking, “Where y’all at, where y’all at, where y’all at?” His theatricality got hollers from the crowd. He shot Hamilton a challenging smirk as he rapped, “Kamikaze, if you think that you gon’ knock me off the top”. Hamilton felt a scowl etch his face as the rest of the gang laughed at their rivalry. Jefferson’s cockiness was in full force as he sang. His hair bobbing along to the beat and at the last lyric he unapologetically (and obnoxiously) dropped the mic. 

Madison kissed Jefferson on his tip-toes as he made his way back to their table. Arm thrown casually over Madison’s shoulder, Jefferson provoked  Hamilton, “Think you can do any better, Ham?”, challenge clear in the air.  Hamilton whipped his head from Jefferson’s smug face to his boyfriend, “I have to fight him,” Hamilton said determinedly. Burr looked over at Hamilton, smile barely hiding under the firm, “No”. “Not _really fight_ him, I’d have to get thru Madison first and he’s a fucking solid rock despite his deceivingly squishy, adorable exterior. Nah, I mean a rap battle,” Hamilton explained, eagerness igniting his eyes. “As long as you destroy him,” Burr acquiesced, giving Hamilton a good luck kiss on the forehead. Hamilton strut up to Jefferson, “Oh man you are _so_ going down, you won’t _even_ know what hit you, get ready to get boiled like macaroni because I’m going to burn you with my rhymes,” Hamilton tried to yell intimidatingly in Jefferson’s face. But Jefferson barely acknowledged Hamilton, his eyes focused on Madison’s video of his performance and waved his hand in response, further infuriating him.

Hamilton stormed upstage. As he told the DJ what he was going to perform, the harsh sound of a record scratch sent a jolt through the crowd. Kicking the microphone stand over, [Hamilton shouted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vimZj8HW0Kg), “Don’t call it a comeback! I been here for years! Rocking my peers and putting suckas in fear. Making the tears rain down like a monsoon! Listen to the bass go BOOM! EXPLOSION! overpowering, over the competition, I’m towering. Wrecking shop, when I drop these lyrics that’ll make you call the cops. Don’t you _dare stare_. You better move! Don’t _ever_ compare me to the rest that all get sliced and diced. Competition’s paying the price,” Hamilton rapped frantically. The red lights flashing incessantly overhead, mimicking his rage onstage. The gang was howling over Hamilton’s energy and his fierce cover of LL Cool J. Hamilton pointed over at Jefferson whenever he rapped about knocking out the competition, publicly calling him out. He stomped around the stage as he rapped furiously, spitting out lyrics, and sweat dripping down his forehead. But there was one slight problem. Hamilton was loud all the time, so imagine him hyped up and in front of a microphone? Suffice it to say, he was blaring louder than a siren. Just as Hamilton started shouting the hook, “I’M GONNA KNOCK YOU OUT! MAMA SAID KNOCK YOU OUT!” Eliza and Lafayette grabbed him by either elbow and dragged him off the stage. Flustered and dripping with sweat, Hamilton waggled his eyebrows in Jefferson direction expecting defeat. Except Jefferson wasn’t in his seat…Madison looked at him expectantly as Eliza and Laf forced Hamilton down in his seat. But just as Hamilton turned to Burr for an explanation, he was shocked to find his boyfriend missing too. He looked around in confusion, question on the tip of his tongue, before John answered him by tapping his shoulder and nodding to the stage. 

“This next one’s for my everything, my Alexander”

Hamilton felt his eyes widen at the sight of Burr up on stage with Jefferson. His heart clenching from the way Burr said his name, full of affection and adoration. In his peripheral vision he saw Madison get his phone out to film and vaguely felt that all eyes were on him, but all he could see was Aaron. All he ever saw was Aaron. They broke eye contact just for a second, Burr adjusting his sleeves in a brief burst of nervous energy before he whispered a countdown to the band. Warm amber light veiled Burr, “[God, he looks like he has a halo](http://media.gettyimages.com/photos/leslie-odom-jr-performs-during-his-solo-album-release-party-at-the-picture-id546336748),” Hamilton thought. Fog from a machine floated in the air, mixing with the light creating a hazy, ethereal effect. [The gentle caress of a piano joined by the hypnotic beat of drums and bongos enveloped the room in a soft melody.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvasjZNMKIo)

“Now you say I got a touch so good, so good, make you never wanna leave, so don’t, so don’t,” Burr hummed, eyes focused on Hamilton. Burr’s voice was like a staccato, reverberating throughout the room and sending a shiver up Hamilton’s spine. 

“Gonna wear that dress I like, _skin-tight_. Do your hair up, _real nice_ and syncopate my skin to your heart beating,” Burr crooned, causing the back of Hamilton’s neck to prickle as he remembered how soft yet possessive Burr’s hands had felt in his hair just a few hours ago. . . 

“You say I give it hard so bad, so bad, make you never wanna leave, well I won’t, I won’t.” Burr ran his hand up and down the microphone stand suggestively, as he looked at Hamilton with a knowing smirk on his face. Hamilton was mesmerized by Burr’s hands, gripping and sliding. He fidgeted in his seat imagining those strong, smooth hands elsewhere. 

But there was a note of reassurance in Burr’s voice as well. A promise, that he wouldn’t leave. Hamilton almost didn’t pick it up, but when he did he was struck by Burr’s vulnerability as he sang. 

Lips pressed against the microphone, Burr whispered to Hamilton across the bar, “Baby can I look good for you?” Noticing Hamilton’s sharp intake of breath, Burr decided to tease him even more. He stripped out of his blazer slowly, earning a few hollers in the crowd. “Let me show you how proud I am to be yours. Leave this dress a mess on the floor” Burr sang breathily. 

“Trust me I can take you there, _Trust me_ I can take you there” Burr moaned with his head thrown back. The veins in Burr’s neck were prominent as he let out his high note and had Hamilton struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. _He was so far gone._ “Take my hand, make you understand. So good, baby, baby,” Burr winked as Hamilton was thinking how rich and smooth Burr’s voice sounded, like honey, and _goddamn how did he get so lucky?_

Jefferson rapping was indistinct to Hamilton, sounding more like muted buzzing, he was transfixed by the way Burr’s hips were moving along to the beat. 

[His arms swaying gently to the thump of the drums.](http://static.playbill.com/dims4/default/3d56f79/2147483647/crop/2100x1181%2B0%2B222/resize/800x450/quality/90/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fstatic.playbill.com%2F0d%2Fd4%2F99fda79f48e3bb5a79e7d25b53b1%2Fleslie-odom-jr-album-release-party-at-the-mckittrick-hotel.%20Photo%20Credit%20Jenny%20Anderson%20\(3\).jpg) Burr never danced in public, at least not this _sinfully._ Hamilton felt himself heat up when Burr raised his arms over his head as he danced, his shirt riding up exposing a _gorgeous_ view of his abs. 

Burr looked at Hamilton through half-lidded eyes. He was moving his entire body as Jefferson rapped, “But the play is before and the mess on the floor is the best. I adore the way you seem unsure when the world's so obviously yours. I just wanna be good for you, everything I said I wouldn't do I would for you. _Shinning up and polishing this wood for you_ ” and **_holy shit_** Hamilton felt himself go hard as Burr caught his eye and decided to roll his hips and slide his hands down the microphone stand in one fluid motion. 

Burr glanced down at Hamilton, seeing him discreetly press a palm to the growing bulge in his jeans causing Burr to bite his lip in response.  

Suddenly, the drums sped up in anticipation. Burr’s eyes on Hamilton’s lips as he panted, “ _so good, so good, so good._ ” As his voice overlapped with Jefferson’s, Hamilton felt his hand flexing into a fist in jealousy at the way their voices fused. 

“I know how to make it good for you. Baby can I be good to you. Proud I am. Make you understand,” Burr groaned _loudly_ , causing people in the audience to fan themselves because the room suddenly felt ten times hotter. 

Burr was practically purring his lyrics. Moving the microphone stand back and forth with his body, [his eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as he let out a heavenly high note](https://nyppagesix.files.wordpress.com/2016/07/546336724.jpg?quality=90&strip=all&w=1200), “so good, so good, so good. Baby so good”

Hamilton is rendered speechless. The face Aaron makes as he lets out his high note is _climatic._ His mouth is dry as a desert watching Burr, desperately licking his lips in relief. 

In one swift move, Burr is making his way off-stage, gliding in his direction. Pulling towards Hamilton like a magnet, Burr sings, “Dress a mess on the floor” with a wicked smirk on his face, a few flirty whistles intermingled in the air. Burr stands over Hamilton in his seat, his legs bracketed between Hamilton’s left knee. Hamilton gazes up and _holy shit holy shit holy shit_ (!!!) Burr looks like a vision, the warm amber light making him glow. Hamilton wants to reach out and grab at Burr’s hips, bring him in even closer but he’s frozen in his seat, Burr’s voice has him under his spell. 

“Proud I am to be yours,” Burr sings looking down at Hamilton in devotion. His free hand combs through Hamilton’s silky hair before tugging at the base, baring his neck. Hamilton is _helpless_. His Adam’s apple feels like a golfball in his throat, he knows he must look desperate, he’s so hard, he’s silently begging Aaron for some kind of release. Noticing Hamilton’s pupils blown wide, Burr takes pity on him. As the drums are going wild, Burr wails out the last lyrics, “Baby, I’ll make it good for you. I’ll make it good for you” Burr inches in closer with every syllable until he’s kissing Hamilton deeply, their tongues messily meeting until the sound of the crowd erupting around them and their friends simultaneously cheering and clearing their throats brings them back to reality. 

They can vaguely hear Madison, Hercules, and Peggy yelling through tears of laughter that the microphone was picking up their “obscene kissing” and “damn y’all are _loud”_ and “omg stop drooling over each other, you lovesick nerds!”

But Hamilton is looking at Burr, and Burr is looking right back at him. Hamilton has his arms wrapped around Burr’s neck while Burr’s hands are gripping his waist. Hamilton leans in, his lips tickling Burr’s ear, “Take me home, _please_ ” he begs and grinds his hips showing how badly he needs Burr. The desperation in his voice causes Burr’s grip to tighten and leaves him speechless but nodding enthusiastically nevertheless. Hamilton drags Burr as quickly as he can out of the bar, weaving them out of the crowd and ignoring their friends, but Burr shoots the gang a conspiratorially exuberant thumbs-up just before they’re out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> p.s. i hope u imagined tjeff dancing like rihanna did in the video bless  
> p.p.s. i lowkey imagined the band was the roots because they're amazing and questlove knows like every song in the world ???
> 
> ahhhh i know a little bit of a cliffhanger? the whole next chapter is going to be mostly smut so there's that !! *also if you read my other fanfic (eliza/ham) i'm sorry i haven't updated in so long i have a bit of writer's block concerning that story...


End file.
